


I Don't Know 'Bout Me but I Know About You

by ouroboros



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bad Flirting, Drinking, M/M, Oral Sex, Pre-Canon, Questioning Sexuality, Sexual Experimentation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 07:11:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11225910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ouroboros/pseuds/ouroboros
Summary: Set at the GPF a year-ish pre-canon. JJ, having a sexuality crisis, propositions Victor, who, having not found his direction through Yuuri yet, is enough of a mess to accept.





	I Don't Know 'Bout Me but I Know About You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/22249.html?thread=11877609#cmt11877609) SASO prompt. I'm sorry.

An international figure skating banquet isn’t, JJ thinks, the _best_ place to have a crisis. But it’s a decent place for the kind he’s having, considering the fact that single people and free alcohol might end up making this easier. He worries for a second about that second part, since the drinking age in Japan is higher than it is in Quebec, but the bartender pours him a generous gin and tonic without question. 

He stands, leaning roguishly against a cafe table, and thinks about it. Casually. It’s not like he hasn’t dated girls. It’s not like he doesn’t already know he likes them. Boobs are good, obviously. He knows this, because he has touched some. More than once. He just isn’t super sure, recently, if that might not be all there is to it. He takes a sip.

He grew up with comments about his sexuality, sure-- _Why don’t you just play hockey? You’re wasting talent on that girly ‘sport.’ Are you some kind of, you know...”_ \--but he’s never put much thought into it. Skating was always something he did, since before he could remember, so he never was able to conceptualize himself without it. 

Now, though, he’s been thinking about it more. Not the figure skating making him gay part. He’s pretty sure that’s bullshit on every level. Just the whole...dudes...thing. In general. He needs to figure it out. What he needs, he decides, is to go for it. Find some dude he thinks he can land, and try it out. What could it hurt?

Halfway through his first drink, the plan is to chat up a waiter with a dimple and uneven bangs, but his wink falls flat. The waiter’s dimple stays perched over a patient but uninterested smile (JJ has seen those before) as he offers him another croquette. JJ accepts, just to give his hands and mouth something to do. This would be easier with a wingman.

Halfway through his third drink, he’s made too much small talk that went nowhere, so he’s nestled into a chair against the wall, deciding that his failure is partially due to the fact that he doesn’t know any stranger’s sexuality just from looking, really. So. It follows that his target should be someone he knows for sure is gay. 

JJ looks around the room. Finding him doesn’t take long. JJ is vaguely aware that his standards should maybe be getting lower, and not, like, indescribably higher, but he also isn’t sure how to go for a thing without barreling confidently toward it at 100%. 

So he downs the rest of his drink, slams it definitively down on the table, and walks over to where Victor is sitting, alone for once. His legs are crossed, one wrist balanced at the edge of the tall cafe table, holding a wine glass languidly up to his mouth. He doesn’t move at all as JJ pulls up a chair, only sliding his gaze, slowly, over. “What.”

Ok, so they aren’t friends, exactly, but JJ is still pretty sure he’s got this. He hasn’t had to _try_ to flirt, before. He normally just JJ poses and girls start screaming. That won’t work here, and he knows it, so he gives it his best shot.

“So,” he says, clearing his throat and raising an eyebrow, “You looked good out there today.”

“Why, thank you.” Victor says it like he would to an overzealous fan: casual, polite, dismissive. JJ knows the drill. He keeps going, though, because now that he’s there, he can’t just give up.

“I’d be interested in seeing more.”

“More of what?” Victor’s eyes narrow, but the corner of his mouth turns up a tiny bit, so JJ runs with it. 

“Like, you know, a private show?” He immediately wants to die of embarrassment and regret at the only line he could manage to scrape together, so he grins wider to bury it.

There is a solid five seconds of silence where Victor stares at him blankly before speaking. “What is this,” he wiggles his fingers in a circle in front of JJ’s face, “this thing you are doing right now.”

“Making conversation?”

“It’s not very good conversation. What do you want?” 

JJ feels the creep of failure crawling up his throat. He has no idea what he’s doing, and the fact that he’s bombing in front of his rival (who already, maddeningly, doesn’t take him seriously) is becoming clearer by the second. So he bets every chip he has, all at once. He leans in, hoping this comes off as charmingly upfront instead of laughably desperate. “To suck your dick.” 

Victor sits up, sharp, his voice half laughter. “To _what_?”

“Or, you could fuck me, if you wanted to.” The words are pouring out unchecked, now, but it’s too late to do anything but ride it out. “Or if you have other ideas. I haven’t you know, with a guy, or, whatever, before. That’s why I want to. To see if I’m actually into dudes. And you’re, you know,” he gestures at Victor, hoping that fills in the gaps in his stunningly disjointed overture, “But. I have a condom. I bring some everywhere, so I’m--”

Victor laughs heartily and props his chin up in his hand, an elbow on the table, leaning in. His eyes are bright for the first time in this exchange. “I _bet_ you do.” 

A swoop of hair falls in Victor’s face, and it’s pretty, and JJ’s running on adrenaline and he can’t parse anything. “What do you mean by that?” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Victor shakes his head. “Don’t you think your, ah, enthusiasm here is probably proof that you might be, like you said, ‘into dudes?’”

“No.” JJ shrugs his shoulders. It might be, actually, but now that he’s made the offer, he can’t stop wanting it. “It isn’t.”

Victor stares at him, his gaze shifting from point to point on JJ’s face, his brows pulled close together like he’s trying to figure something out. JJ hopes it’s something good. His heart is throwing itself against his ribcage.

“You don’t know how to _not_ get what you want, do you?” 

JJ shrugs. “It usually works. But aren’t you the same way?” He thinks about all of Victor’s medals, the records he holds that JJ can’t seem to break. 

Victor sighs, his gaze darkening. “That’d be easier if I knew what I wanted.”

JJ opens his mouth, but, for once, words don’t just happen their own. He isn’t sure what Victor means by that, but he gets the feeling there’s more to the admission than he can tell. He isn’t sure how to navigate serious conversational waters at his best, and three drinks in and ambiguously but unilaterally horny is definitely not his best, so he clears his throat and says “Well, make it easy, then. Decide you want to fuck me. Work the rest out later.” He tosses in a wink and click of his tongue, because he wants to lighten the sudden drop in mood, and because he can’t help himself.

Victor groans and presses his palms against his closed eyes. “I can’t believe this is where my night is going.”

“So you’re interested?”

“Not especially,” Victor says, “But I may do it anyway.”

JJ leans toward him automatically; a sunflower following the barest shine of praise. Victor holds a hand up to block him. 

“Look, don’t make a scene. I’m in room 322. Wait at least ten minutes,” he says, downing the last half of his wine. He stops once on his way out, with a light hand on Christophe’s arm, to whisper something in his ear. Christophe’s face lights up with glee and his eyes snap to JJ, who looks immediately away, trying to assume the casual nonchalance of someone who hadn’t been watching them, who hadn’t done what he’d just done. When he looks up, Victor is gone.

JJ waits what is probably, he thinks, at least 25, just to be safe, hanging on the fringes of various conversations. No one really pays him that much attention or laughs at any of the witty things he says, but that’s probably just because he’s nervous. Off his game. That excuse will still hold up a few more times before he’ll let himself dig too far into it. _One crisis at a time, JJ_ , he thinks, and strides confidently toward the exit.

~~~

When Victor opens the door, he’s pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing. “That was barely 7 minutes.”

JJ is afraid he’s changed his mind, but he steps aside, pulling JJ into the room “Lucky for you, I am at the peak of what must be a quarter-life crisis. So I don’t care.” 

“Happy to be of service, then.”

Victor has already poured himself another drink. He doesn’t offer one to JJ, which JJ is kind of glad about, since he’s still at the point of being sure of his decisions, and knows he’ll remember them all, which is sort of the point, probably. Since this is all for research, of course.

Victor sits down on the bed, leaning back on one hand. His shirt is unbuttoned halfway down his chest, and his hair is somehow already a bit mussed. He looks poised and beautiful even half disheveled, and JJ isn’t sure how he makes everything he does seem so effortless. 

“No one’s going to be doing any fucking if you stay over there against the wall trying to hide your erection, you know.” Victor pats the bed next to him. “Unless you’d rather just watch me?”

A strangled noise catches itself in the back of JJ’s throat. “Right, yes, on my way.” He sits down a ginger distance from Victor, takes a deep breath, and scoots closer. “Like I said, I haven’t really, uh, done--”

Victor cuts him off again. “Yes, yes, that is still very clear. I don’t need your entire story. Just take off your clothes and tell me if you want to stop, okay?”

The clear instructions make it simpler, and JJ is thankful. He’s almost glad that Victor isn’t pretending to like him more than he does. It’s easier, almost, to not have to try and fake bravado when he’s not feeling it. He stands and his hands go to work at his belt. 

“Ugh.” Victor scrunches his nose up when JJ is done, standing, naked except for his socks, in front of him on the bed. 

JJ looks down, curious, is his dick weird? Is he too hairy? Not hairy enough? He figures his body is pretty great, but Victor looks almost angry. “What’s wrong?”

“I hoped you’d be less attractive.” Victor sighs for what is probably the tenth time that night. 

JJ laughs, and, buoyed by the small victory, straddles Victor on the bed. “Sorry to disappoint.” His hands go to straight to Victor’s shirt buttons, his mouth straight to Victor’s neck. 

“The awful tattoos help balance it out, th--” and Victor lets out a small, sweet gasp.

JJ drinks it in, sucking lightly at the pulse in his throat. “Those just accentuate my musculature, and you know it.”

Victor groans, and JJ chooses to believe it’s mostly another sound of pleasure. His hands fumble some undressing him, because it’s _Victor_ , probably, and because his hands and mouth can’t seem to go at the speed his brain wants them to. There is so much skin to touch, now that it’s possible to do so, and he can’t contain himself.

“Your usual finesse extends to the bedroom, I see.” Victor says, but he lets himself be guided onto his back, propped up slightly by pillows. 

The insult barely registers, because JJ starts crawling down Victor’s body, putting his hands and his tongue on anything he can on his way. He pauses by Victor’s navel to look up at him. He’s breathing hard, face bright pink, his hands tight fists in the blankets, which they hadn’t even turned down. JJ wants to tell him how good he looks like that, but he isn’t sure how well that will be received. So, instead, he says “I’m getting another tattoo soon. My initials, right here.” He taps his lower back.

Victor looks horrified. “You already _have_ your initials on you.”

JJ looks down at his bicep. “Well, yeah, but this new one would be ‘J _L_ , not JJ, so--”

“Please,” Victor’s voice is weak, “say fewer things.”

With a grin, JJ complies, taking Victor’s dick into his mouth. This is, probably, the most unstudied task he’s decided immediately to be great at, but his combination of enthusiasm, surprisingly low gag response, and a firm grip on Victor’s hips seems to work. 

The fact that Victor is hard at all, much less making small hitched sounds in his throat and pulling unrelentingly at JJ’s hair, makes JJ more turned on than he can deal with. JJ can’t help but push his own erection into the bed as he goes. He feels like every part of him is on fire with the fact that this is happening, and he can’t contain the movement of his hips because every bit of focus he has is pointed at Victor’s dick.

Victor’s hips start shaking, and JJ realizes, a thrill of pride running down his spine, that he’s close. He remembers his previous offer, and pops up for a minute, breathing hard. “I forgot to...did you want to--” He shifts slightly, ready to turn around, get on all fours, or whatever he’s supposed to do for Victor to fuck him.

“NO, no.” Victor speaks hurriedly, “That’s not, ah...I’m not really...anyway, you’re good. It’s good. Keep--” He gives up on words and snaps his fingers a few times.

JJ goes back to it, taking in as much of Victor’s dick as he can. Victor Nikiforov’s dick is in his mouth, and he wanted it there. He had called him good. And to prove it is true, a few wet, deep thrusts into JJ’s mouth later, Victor comes. 

Everything becomes too much, a dizzying swell of sensation and pride and the salty, sputtering taste of accomplishment, and JJ comes, too, against the bed.

It takes JJ a moment to gather himself, for the bright spots to clear from his eyes. When they do, he pulls shakily up to sit at Victor’s side and looks at him, his eyes wide.

Victor sits up, himself. There is a sheen of sweat at his temples. “You’re like a puppy, waiting to be praised.” He says it with a jagged edge of endearment to his voice, which is praise enough. He runs a thumb along JJ’s chin. “Missed a bit.”

JJ turns his head to catch Victor’s thumb in his mouth before he can pull it away, sucking off the last bit of come. Victor’s eyelids flutter closed and he whispers something in Russian. When he opens them again, he looks down at JJ and smirks, nodding toward where JJ’s abdominal muscles are smeared with come, where his dick rests, softening, against his thigh. “Solid evidence in the ‘into dudes’ category, don’t you think?” 

“Oh, I…” JJ runs his hand through his magnificently fucked up hair, and blushes. “Yeah, I guess that’s settled, huh?” He’d sort of forgotten his original intent along the way, which, yeah, is pretty decent proof.

Victor tosses him the box of tissues sitting on the bedside table. It hits him in the chest.

“Thanks.”

Victor nods.

A few swipes and he’s clean enough. He moves on to getting dressed. Victor stays where he is, leaning back on his hands, still totally naked, just watching.

“Really, though. Thank you. For, you know. Helping.”

“Anytime.” 

JJ looks up from buttoning his pants, surprised. “Really?”

“Oh, no. Absolutely not. That is just the polite response. Please never mention this to me again. Or anyone else.”

JJ shrugs and smiles. “Who would I tell?”

“True,” says Victor. His expression softens, and he almost looks sad for a moment, but he shakes it off before JJ can decipher it. 

“Well.” JJ puts his hands in his pockets to check that his room key is still there as he walks backward toward the door. “See you in Sochi.”

Victor nods, and JJ turns the doorknob.

“And JJ,” Victor calls out, and JJ pauses, turning back toward him, ”Good luck.”

“Thanks,” he says. He hadn't expected that.

“With your dudes, I mean. Not with the skating. I still plan on beating you as soundly as always.” 

JJ laughs, and it’s genuine, bubbling from his gut with the warm hope of Victor taking him for the serious competitor he knows he is. “We’ll see about that,” he says, and winks.

Victor rolls his eyes, but he is almost smiling. JJ shuts the door behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> WELL I actually really enjoyed writing this silly thing, so i hope someone likes it. Also, I hope it comes across across how much I love JJ, my disaster boy.


End file.
